


Crossing Paths

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Laurent, emotional laurent, gentle damen, long haired laurent, shy laurent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: When a man mistakes him for a girl, Laurent is sure he's in for a beating. Luckily, a chivalrous stranger is nearby.





	Crossing Paths

**Author's Note:**

> So, you guys remember in Kings Rising (i think it was King's Rising) when those soldiers legit thought Laurent was a women? Well, that got me thinking.  
> Also, I think there was a part in one of the books that described young Laurent as "bookish", and I've been in love with the idea of shy!laurent ever since. So there's a little bit of that here.
> 
> This Laurent has an older brother who lived and loves him, so he obviously grew up very differently. But Auguste has recently moved across the country for work and Laurent is a poor lonesome little bab.
> 
>  
> 
>  **WARNINGS**  
>  \- an angry homophobe in the very beginning

Laurent tips his head back against the mirrored wall of the elevator and lets a stranger mouth at the side of his neck. Well, not quite a stranger. Laurent is pretty sure his name is Timothy or Tommy or something like that. They're acquainted, at the very least. Timothy goes to the nearby college, probably on some sort of sports scholarship, and Laurent would guess he's in his mid-twenties. He's bulky, bulging muscles and a buzzcut, and he's not really the sort Laurent would go for, but he'd been feeling particularly lonesome when Timothy asked if they could go back to his apartment. 

So here he is, pressed against an elevator wall with a man's erection pressing into his stomach. Is this really what he wants out of tonight? In a way, yes. In many, many other ways, it's definitely not. He's had a bit to drink though, so everything is a little fuzzy around the edges, a little easier. It's the only reason he was able to talk to Timothy anyway, the only way he had the courage to say yes to the man's advances.

The elevator pings loudly and the doors slide open, and they spill out into the hallway of Timothy's apartment building. He feels a shock of nerves when the man palms his ass and then pulls back to slap it hard. The sound of it echoes through the hall, and Laurent gasps with the sting of it.

“Damn, girl.” Timothy slurs, “You got a tight ass. You got that pussy wet for me, huh?”

Laurent freezes, “Excuse me?”

Timothy turns, laughing, “What, you're not gettin' prudish on me now, are you? You need some more whiskey, baby? I got some in my apartment. Come on.”

He reaches for Laurent's wrist, but the smaller man yanks his hand away quickly, sick fear running through his veins as he realizes, very suddenly, that this man thinks Laurent is a woman.

It happens a surprising amount, if Laurent is being honest. His features are soft, a bit on the feminine side, and his long blond hair falls in a braid to his waist. But he's wearing tight jeans and a form fitting black turtleneck, it should be obvious that Laurent has no curves to speak of. Not to mention his adam's apple, which was quite close to the man's mouth not minutes ago.

Nevertheless, Timothy seems to be under the impression that he's about to have sex with a  _woman_ . These things never end well, and Laurent isn't sure if he's relieved or mortified when he hears the door to the stairs open and someone come out. 

He takes a deep breath, “Timothy,” He says, as gently as he can, “You do realize... I’m not a woman?”

The man looks at him, confused, then lets out a bark of laughter. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I- I'm a _man_.” He's terrified saying it, but it's better to do it in the open than in the apartment. 

“What the _fuck_?” He can see the change in Timothy's expression now, from lust to confusion, then to disgust when he _finally_ gets it, “What the hell? What is this, a fucking trap?”

“No! No, I thought you knew!” Laurent takes a step back as Timothy advances angrily on him, he puts up his hands, but they're shaking.

Timothy grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him back into the wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I’m gay? You tryin' to make me fuckin' gay?”

“I thought you knew!” Laurent gasps again, but he sees the punch coming and he knows there's nothing he can do about it. He can't fight back against this giant, what was he thinking? What will Auguste think if he hears Laurent is in the hospital? Oh heaven, this was a mistake.

Timothy's fist connects with his face with a horrible crunch and a blinding pain that has him hitting his head against the wall and falling to the ground.

He expects more, he expects fists and feet and more pain, but suddenly someone else is there. The person from the stairwell, he thinks. He hears shouting and grunting but his head hurts so badly and he's trying to figure out if his nose is bleeding.

Then, very suddenly, everything is quiet. There's a hand on his arm, and he jerks back so quickly that he smacks his head on the wall again.

“Whoa,” Says a voice that's definitely not Timothy.

“Ow.” Says Laurent, desperately trying to pretend that he's not on the verge of tears.

“Hey, you're okay,” Says the newcomer, “He's gone.”

Slowly, Laurent sits up, blinking. A spike of pain rushes through his head and he whimpers, hand going to the back of it to find it wet with blood at the crown. An image clears before him, another huge man, but this one is looking down at him with concern.

“Can you hear me?” The man asks, “My name is Damen.”

“I can hear you.” Laurent manages weakly.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?”

Laurent ignores him, “Where did Timothy go?”

“His apartment. You want me to call the cops?”

Laurent shakes his head, grimacing when he's overcome with a wave of dizziness. “No.” He says, for emphasis, “I just want to go home.”

“First tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

Laurent rolls his eyes, “Two, I  _can_ count.”

“You might have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.” Laurent insists, but when he goes to stand he's overcome by dizziness again, he grabs the closest thing and finds himself braced against a strong chest.

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“I'm _fine_.”

He watches Damen's jaw clench, his eyes on Lauren't bloody nose. “At least let me help you get cleaned up.”

He shouldn't. He should get out of here before he starts crying, which could be any time now. He should get out of here before he gets beat up more, which could also be any time now.

It's just- he's not sure he can currently stand on his own, and besides, he can't get into a cab looking like this.

“Fine.” He says, “But if you try anything, you're dead.”

“Of course.” Says Damen, slipping an arm around Laurent's waist to keep him steady. They make their way slowly down the hall to an apartment near the end. Damen knocks loudly at the door and it's opened moments later by yet _another_ huge man. Is there anyone normal in this apartment building, Laurent wonders.

“What the- what did you _do_?” Says the newest man.

“Save it, Nicky,” Says Damen, pushing past him into the apartment, “Tim from 306 was trying to beat him to a pulp.”

“Ah, hell. Why?”

Laurent doesn't answer, but his face burns. If this oaf tells  _Nicky_ what he heard, Laurent will never forgive him. By some stroke of luck, Damen ignores the question and instead make a beeline to the bathroom. He deposits Laurent on the edge of the bathtub and gets the first aid kit from under the sink. 

When he comes back over, he looks down at Laurent's hands, and when Laurent looks down too he finds that they're still trembling. How long have they been shaking? Why can't he get rid of the fear in his veins? Auguste would be fine by now, Auguste would have fought back.

“Hey, it's okay.” Comes Damen's voice, surprisingly gentle, “You're safe.” He takes Laurent's hands in his, and suddenly everything is too much, and Laurent is crying.

“Oh boy,” Says Damen, but he's leaning in and giving Laurent an awkward side hug, and Laurent can't decide if he wants to fall into Damen's arms or slap him in the face. His feelings on the matter are unclear.

 

This is not, in fact, how Damen had been planning on spending his night. The  _plan_ had been to get back from the gym, cook some supper, maybe veg in front of the tv with Nikandros. Instead, he's consoling a crying man in his bathroom. 

In the guy's defense, it was a pretty traumatic situation. Damen had come up the stairs just as it seemed to be starting, so he caught all the details, and he'll say without a doubt in his mind that Tim from 306 can get fucked.

That said, he's not really sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy is gorgeous. He's got fine features, long eyelashes, and blond hair that falls to his waist and looks incredibly soft. Like, he gets why Tim was into the guy, he really does. His fine skin is already bruising like soft fruit, his hands are trembling, his eyes swimming with tears. On the other hand, the kid keeps insisting he's fine, even though Damen is almost sure he's got a concussion. He alternates between prickly and frightened, and Damen is just doing his best to be gentle. He doesn't want to spook the kid.

“What's your name?” He asks, gently dabbing a wet washrag on the wound at the back of the man's head, hoping it isn't deep.

“Laurent.”

“Well, Laurent,” Damen sighs, “I still think you should go to a hospital.”

“I still think you should fuck off.” Says Laurent, but it's undermined by his still-present tears and sniffling.

“Do you have someone I can call then? To pick you up? I don't think you should be by yourself.”

Laurent look up at him, takes a breath, and starts crying anew.

“Ah, damn it.” Says Damen, “What did I say?”

Laurent shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. Damen leans back, unable to clean Laurent's wound when he's moving around so much. He's pretty sure it's okay though, actually, it looks like the skin is split but it's not deep.

“Laurent,” He says, but the man doesn't look up, “Laurent. There's no one I can call?”

Laurent sniffles and shakes his head, “No one who would be able to come.”

Damen rubs his thumb against his temple, hoping to banish the headache beginning to rise there. “Alright,” He says, “Okay. Why don't you stay here for a while, let me keep an eye on you. If I don't think you've got a concussion I'll call you a cab.”

Laurent frowns at him now, wiping his tears away with the heels of his hands. He looks so young, suddenly. “Fine.” He says.

“How old are you?” Damen wonders.

“Eighteen.”

“What were you doing with Tim? That dude is way too old for you.”

“I thought he was in college.”

“No way, dude, he's like thrity.”

Laurent shivers, and his expression changes to one of disgust. “He lied to me.”

“Well, yeah. He's a dirtbag.”

“I didn't _know_.” 

“Where'd you even meet that guy?”

“A bar, where else?”

“You're not twenty-one.”

Laurent throws his hands up in the air. “What, are you a cop?”

“No, man, but you could have gotten seriously hurt! Tim was going to beat the shit out of you! Why would you go to a bar to meet someone?”

Angry, Laurent shoves at Damen's shoulder. Not that it does anything _._ “I'm lonely, alright? Is that what you want to hear? I'm lonely and desperate and I said yes to the first guy who hit on me, because that's where I am right now. So  _that's_ why I was at a fucking bar, I’m  _so_ sorry I didn't go to an  _art gallery_ or something classy like you  _obviously_ would have.”

His voice has gotten louder and louder as he's ranting, and Damen finds himself matching Laurent's tone. “You don't need to skim the bottom of the fucking barrel, Laurent! You're gorgeous, you could have normal,  _decent_ guy. You don't need to go to trashy bars!”

“Well, you know what, you don't know anything about me! Maybe it has nothing to do with my looks! Maybe I’m anxious twenty-four-seven and I don't like leaving the house and it's really really hard to...” He breaks off, pressing his lips together as they start quivering, “To talk to people. And no one wants to deal with me.”

All the fire has gone out of him, as suddenly as it came. His shoulders slump, he stares at his shoes.

Yeah, this is definitely not how Damen planned on spending his evening.

“Come on,” Damen sighs, “Come watch tv with Nick while I make supper.”

Laurent doesn't protest, but takes Damen's hand when it's offered and follows him into the living room.

 

Laurent stays, he sits in the living room with Nicky while Damen makes stir-fry, and when he pokes his head back in to tell them it's ready, he finds them in a heated argument about beta fish, of all things. The three of them eat on the couch, with Nicky and Damen on either side of Laurent, who sits in the middle. Despite their argument, Nicky seems to like Laurent which, if he's being honest, is about where Damen stands too. He doesn't know how to feel about it, about this prickly kid who is, so far, almost always either arguing or crying. This beautiful kid, who is currently falling asleep on Damen's shoulder.

“Should he be sleeping?” Nicky asks.

“I'm pretty sure he's fine.” Damen tells him, “No slurred speech, the dizziness stopped, his head wound seems artificial. I think he's okay.”

“And you're, what? Just going to let him spend the night?”

“Well- he's asleep, Nicky. What do you want me to do?”

“Wake him up.”

“No way! He's had a long day.”

“Jesus, Damen.”

“Fuck off, Nick.”

“I'm just saying-”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't.”

“Remember what Jokaste-”

“Yeah, I fucking remember Jokaste cheating on me with my brother, Nick. Did you think I fucking forgot? What does that even have to do with this?”

Nikandros holds up his hands in surrender. “I'm just trying to look out for you, man.”

Damen takes a deep breath, “Yeah, I know.”

Nikandros doesn't bring it up again, but when it starts getting late, Damen scoops Laurent up off the couch. Laurent clings to him, half-asleep, as he carries the man back to his bedroom. He's slight, thin, probably too thin to be healthy. He could use a few good meals, Damen thinks.

He deposits Laurent in his bed and turns to leave, only to be stopped by an iron grip on his sleeve.

“I can't sleep in my clothes.” Laurent whines.

Damen sighs, it feels like he's been doing a lot of that tonight, “You want me to help you undress?”  
Laurent nods sleepily, and Damen gives in, because of course he does, “Fine. Lift your arms up.”

It's tricky to get a turtleneck off of someone half asleep, Damen finds, especially someone with such a massive amount of hair. Without his shirt, Laurent is pale as the moon, thin as a whip. He kicks his feet and Damen helps him with his shoes, his socks. When he pulls off Laurent's pants he discovers very quickly that the man isn't wearing underwear. His cock lies flaccid against a pale thigh.

“Whoa, okay. Uh,”

“Come _here_.” Says Laurent, and Damen finds himself being pulled downward by his hands. He stumbles, but stops just short of Laurent's body.

“Uh,”

“Kiss me?” Laurent asks, “I know you want to.”

He's not wrong, but this doesn't seem like the time. “Not tonight.” He says, pulling back, trying to ignore the hurt he can clearly see in Laurent's eyes.

“Why not?” The boy says softly.

“It's the wrong time.” He takes a step back.

“Wait! Don't _leave_! Can you- can you just stay? Can't we just cuddle?”

How did his night end up this way, Damen wonders. He doesn't even know Laurent's last name. Then again, what harm could cuddling do?

“You're naked.”

“I can't _sleep_ in my clothes.”

“If you wear some of my pajamas, we can cuddle.”

“Okay.”

So Damen finds a pair of drawstring pajama pants that absolutely swallow Laurent and a shirt that almost fits him like a dress. Laurent doesn't complain though, and happily takes his place as the little spoon when Damen gets into bed.

“Thanks.” He sighs, and he sounds genuine. Maybe he just needs a little contact.

 

Laurent wakes up warm, and it takes him several moments to remember why there's currently someone someone spooning him.

Damen, he remembers, who had been amazingly patient with him despite his terrible mood. Who let him have the bed and didn't take advantage when Laurent was literally propositioning him while naked. And now he's plastered to Laurent's back, arms wrapped around Laurent's middle, snorting softly in his ear.

Laurent looks around for a clock, and when he doesn't see one he looks around for his phone. He doesn't see that either, but he does see his pants by the side of the bed, and he'll bet his phone is in there. As much as he stretches though, he can't quite reach with Damen wrapped around him.

“Damen,” he says, reaching back to jostle the man's hip, “Damen.”

“Mmph.” Says Damen.

“Let go, I have to get my phone.”

Damen's grip loosens enough for Laurent to slip out of his grasp and down to the floor, to open his phone and see that it's at 5%.

“Damen, what kind of phone charger do you have?”

“Micro usb.” Comes the muttered response.

“Can I borrow it?”

He gets a grunt, and since he figures that's as good as it's going to get, he goes searching for it.  
There's barely any food in the refrigerator, and Laurent is hungry. So maybe he should leave, go home, get out of Damen's hair. But there's just something about the man that has him calmer than he has been in a very long time, and he doesn't want to lose that just yet. Not quite yet.

“Damen,” He pokes his head back into the man's room, “Do you want to get breakfast?”

“Where at?”

“IHOP?”

“Let me pee first.”

But of course Laurent isn't wearing his dirty shirt from yesterday, it's bad enough he's wearing yesterday's pants. He ends up with one of Damen's smaller shirts, still entirely too big on him.

When Damen comes out of the bathroom he gives Laurent a long, slow look that has him squirming.

“Looks good.” Is all he says. “Why are you still here, anyway?”

“I wanted you to take me to breakfast.”

“Right.”

 

By all accounts, breakfast shouldn't go well. It should be awkward, or weird at the very least. It shouldn't be this easy to talk to Damen, who he definitely propositioned last night. Laurent shouldn't find him this funny, find his smile so disarming. He shouldn't be looking at Laurent like that, because Laurent's hair is a mess and he hasn't showered and he made an absolute fool of himself yesterday. 

When the waitress asks how they're doing the check, Laurent says, “He's paying for it.”

“What? Why do I have to pay?” Damen protests, “I didn't even get laid last night.”

“Well, I offered, so who's fault is that?”  
  
“That's cold, man.”

And Laurent says, “I can make it up to you.”

Damen goes still for a moment, before moving again, “Yeah?”

“If you want. I know you didn't last night, but,”

Damen clears his throat. “Yeah, I mean, I feel like... you're more yourself today.”

“How would you know?”

“Well, you were crying a lot last night.”

“So I'm a mess. So what?”

“I just,” He clears his throat again, “I didn't want to- you know- hurt you.”

Laurent grins at him. “Well we'll see about that, won't we?”

 

In what should really be no surprise at all, Damen is a tender lover. He brushes Laurent's hair back from his face as he rocks into him, he whispers praises and tells Laurent how very, very beautiful he is. It's _emotional_. It's the most emotional sex Laurent has ever had, in fact. For such a completely huge man, Damen is so gentle. It's lovely, but it makes Laurent cry again, and they have to stop for a while until Damen is sure Laurent is alright.

Laurent isn't sure he's ever been this alright in his life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- Auguste 100% would have come got Laurent if he could have, but he just moved across the country for work, which is why Laurent is so lonesome and sad :(
> 
> \- all Laurent really needed was some snuggles and good dick
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/)


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